


Blood and Sand

by friendlybomber



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Competition, Death, Other, War, normal healthy well-adjusted individuals having a normal healthy well-adjusted competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlybomber/pseuds/friendlybomber
Summary: A great many things began in Ishval. Numbered among them, a friendly competition and a fatal attraction.





	Blood and Sand

A great many things began in Ishval. Envy was no psychic; they couldn’t possibly be expected to predict _everything_ that got started on the tooth of a bullet. Lots of pathetic humans began their pathetic journeys amidst the blood and sand. They couldn’t be expected to pay attention to _all_ of them.

All they really cared about was how much carnage the humans sowed. And really, there was just so much of it. They were swimming in it. It was… it was _incredible._

The humans whined and moaned about the _inhumanity_ of it all. But, wasn’t this human nature? Envy may have started the war, but the humans fought it.

It didn’t take too long for Envy to start noticing the ones who enjoyed it.

There were, after all, so many humans committing so many atrocities in Ishval. But the ones who made an art of it… Well, they couldn’t be expected to _not_ notice, could they?

The first time Envy saw the Crimson Alchemist was in the wreckage of a hospital. The spark of alchemy still flared around him, white and red against his pallid skin. He separated his hands and looked at the bodies scattered before him and he _grinned_.

_Well now,_ Envy thought, _the humans are doing all our work for us._

The second time Envy saw the Crimson Alchemist, dozens died. He appeared like an idol above the village, blacked out against the white-hot Ishvalan sun. He clapped his hands, and thunder clapped with him, a burst of radiant chaos toppling buildings over innocent Ishvalan bodies.

Envy didn’t know what was more beautiful: the explosion, or the death toll.

The third time Envy saw the Crimson Alchemist blurred into the fourth time, and the fourth time into the fifth time, and by the time Envy remembered his name, they had met face to face. It had gone something like this:

The Crimson Alchemist – _Kimblee_ – wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun was high, the days hot. He had long stripped from his military jacket. He had killed eleven people that day. It was a little after noon.

“Tired, Crimson Alchemist?” Envy said, handing him their disguise’s water flask. “You’ve been hard at work.”

Kimblee took the flask and drank. Envy watched his Adam’s apple bob. He wiped his mouth. Water droplets trickled down his chin. With one swipe of his crimson tongue, they were gone.

“And I’ll be soon back to work once the bell rings,” he said. He smiled. Some humans’ skin might have crawled. “We’ll carve our way through this town before nightfall.”

Envy hopped onto a rock, letting the mannerisms of their disguise fall away like disused skin. They craned their borrowed neck, a fist beneath their chin. “You enjoy the work you do, don’t you, Crimson Alchemist?”

Still the smile. “What’s not to enjoy?” He thrust his arms out. On his palms, the arrays of destruction seemed both innocuous and volatile. Like they could burst at any moment, at any whim of this murderous human. “I’m being given the chance to perfect my art. Any craftsman would take joy in creating such masterful work.”

Envy hummed, scrubbing their chin. “How many have you killed so far?”

Kimblee tilted his head. Considering the question seemed to amuse him. “Well, I’m not sure. I’ll have to count it up.”

The bell rang. They both looked to its source. Around them, parched soldiers dragged their drained selves back toward the bloodshed. Kimblee was still thinking, his eyes lolled off to nothing. His tongue flicked between his cracked lips. Envy watched it disappear. They unfolded onto their disguise’s feet.

“When you finish counting, let me know,” they said, halfway gone already. “I’m curious to see how much your art has cost the Ishvalans.”

Kimblee caught their arm. “Excuse me, what’s your name? How will I find you to tell you?”

For a moment, Envy’s form crackled. Not enough to drop the disguise, but enough to stir the air, to let Kimblee know they were something more than human. “My name is Envy,” they said, and they left him behind to count.

The answer, when he found them again, was higher than they could’ve possibly hoped.

The next time they met, it had risen.

It did not stop rising.

Envy began to wonder at their own number.

“Three more,” Envy spat proudly, their gun still smoking, the blood just starting to pool around their military boots.

Kimblee smirked. Envy wondered if he knew he was covered in blood.

“That’s all very well for you,” Kimblee said, “but I just killed four more.”

Envy’s lip curled back. No doubt they had killed more overall. They were older than Kimblee by decades. They’d participated in massacres Kimblee had only read about. Hell, they’d _started_ this war. But Kimblee… Well, he didn’t start the Ishvalan War of Extermination, but he might as well have sworn to finish it all by himself. He could kill by the truckload. He could level entire towns in a day.

That pathetic human was outclassing Envy at their own game.

He twirled his philosopher’s stone between his fingers, and Envy saw red. But, maybe, a very specific shade of red. A shade such as that found in blood on sand. Or within a philosopher’s stone.

A very certain _crimson_ shade.

Envy fully understood they were at war, but this meant war.

So the bodies kept piling up. Not always in one piece. Not when Kimblee was involved. He blasted the crest of blood deep, deep into the earth. In his wake, rubble and smoke and carnage scarred the countryside. And Envy flanked him, never too far from sight, guns and knives and bombs blazing. They kept counting. They were having a blast.

The humans did such an efficient job in Ishval. Wrath had truly outdone himself. Bodies killed, bodies fell, and Ishval slowly suffocated in its own welling blood. The war would be over before too long. Envy was almost disappointed to see it go.

But it wasn’t over yet. And a great many things had begun in Ishval. Kimblee and Envy still had a score to settle.

Envy still wasn’t psychic. They didn’t know the war would be over by next week. But they could feel their kill count slowing in its ascent. Even Kimblee couldn’t turn out as many bodies as he used to. There was simply no one left to kill.

Still, Kimblee was an artist. He made-do.

“Two more,” he said, dropping down from his perch high above the city streets. He rubbed at his wrist, striding toward Envy with the full confidence of a human who had massacred a nation. Dust from his recent explosions caked his hair. The sun was setting on the dead Ishvalan city. The sky, a burst of orange and red and pink bands, betrayed the chill creeping in through the emptied streets.

Envy humphed. “Is that all? _I’ve_ brought my tally up to the next hundred.”

Kimblee smiled, tilting his head. “Is that so?” He stopped in front of Envy. “Well done.”

Envy grinned at him. They stood on the steps of a public bath. The water, once clear and fresh, lapped at their boots, washing frothy crimson over black leather. The gleam from the setting sun peaked between stone walls. The sweat and dust that caked Kimblee caught the light, outlining him in the orange of war.

“You too,” Envy said. They punched his bare arm. “You’ve impressed me, Crimson Alchemist. Your cruelty knows no bounds.”

"Thank you,” Kimblee said. “You’re not so bad yourself, Envy. I’ve never seen such an efficiently ruthless killer.”

He narrowed his eyes. The sun dipped too low behind the stone walls. A desert chill blew down the street.

“But what do you really look like?” he asked.

Envy allowed their disguise to look stunned for a beat. Then, they threw their head back and laughed, and with each heave of their shoulders, their disguise fell away to reveal Envy the Jealous’s true human form. Kimblee stepped back. His sunken eyes scanned Envy, taking in every detail.

He crossed his arms. He pursed his lips.

“What’s wrong?” Envy grinned, posed for presentation. “Not what you expected?”

“No, it’s not that,” Kimblee said. “It’s just, that’s not fair.”

He stepped forward and caught Envy’s chin between his fingers. Their lips met before Envy could realize what was happening. There had been, historically speaking, better battlefield kisses. But there was something dry and hungry and jealous in this one. And that suited Envy just fine.

“It’s not fair,” Kimblee breathed, pulling away, “that you should look like _that_ and be able to kill like _that_.”

And maybe this kiss was better than the first, but that was because Envy was ready for it. And as they stood there and kissed, all cracked lips and crimson tongues and heaving chests, the desert sun set, and the bloody water lapped at their feet, and something that had begun in Ishval finally sparked to completion.

They kissed again. Each was better than the last.

There were many more bodies after that. Many, many bodies. Because even though the war ended in Ishval, a great many things had been set in motion. Plans began to wind upwards like a net. Humans began to make important choices. Effect piled high after cause.

Envy continued to count their kills. And when Kimblee went to jail, they began to count the days until they’d throw their number in his face. Competition didn’t stop for incarceration. They had a precedent to maintain.

Kimblee wouldn’t want it any other way. He was just as eager to make up for lost time as Envy was to see him try. Only a fool would think anything had truly ended in Ishval.

When he got out, they’d pick up right where they left off. For old time’s sake.

                  

              

                

 

                 

**Author's Note:**

> i finished the series and immediately decided i'm going down with this rarepair so welcome to hell motherfuckers population me 
> 
> also i'm very sick and i wrote this in two hours and published it with very little editing so sorry not sorry beggar's can't be choosers


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